Daisy Petals
by ParisAmy
Summary: When she was little she spent all her time sitting in the grass covered in daisys. She didn’t believe in fairy rings or the man that collected your teeth. The only thing she did believe in was; he loves me, he loves me not. Sequel; The Little Things.
1. Daisy Petals

Daisy Petals. 

When she was a little girl she used to spend all her time sitting in the grass which was covered in daisy's. She didn't believe in fairy rings or the man that collected your teeth. The only thing she did believe in was; he loves me, he loves me not.

The sun would shine down on her pure white face, making the already visible freckles stand out even more. She liked it out here, no one to disturb the deathly silence, expect the few birds in the trees or the occasional sound of shouting or something falling to the floor inside the house. That's why she was outside. Whenever Wayne came home, she'd go outside and sit in the grass, that was so long and whispery that she used to think if she laid down she would be invisible. Not that she wasn't already.

She'd sit for hours, pulling the daisy's from the grass. Chanting the same chant until all the petals were gone. She'd pull and pluck, until she got the answer she wanted. 'He loves me'

When she plucked 'He loves me' she got the things she lacked. The physical, social, emotional, relational, and even spiritual love.

Anything less than that? 'He loves me not'

Here she was again, this time though she wasn't that same little girl, she was older and wiser, she was not longer Katie or Katherine or even Freckles. No one had called her that in a long while. No, now she was Kate.

She'd been sat a while now, the wind whipped round her bare shoulders making her pull her grey jacket further up around her neck. She shivered for a second, then regained composer, her legs crossed, arms draped over her knees, head tilted as she gazed out to the horizon. She's often imagined, believed, that he's only over the horizon and if she wanted she could get up, walk out into the ocean and she'd be there again. But its never that simple. For when she dreams this, once she's in reach of going over the horizon it moves further away and she has to run to keep up, but its always too fast. But one day she'll get there and he'll be sat in his aeroplane seat with a book in his hand, because that's how she remembers him.

The sand beneath her was cold, not like the warm, golden sand she was used too. She pulls out one big daisy from her bag, she'd bought it earlier because she wanted to sit here and pick at the daisy's petals, because she knew that he'd be sat under this sky, these stars that glistened so brightly against the black backdrop, looking out at the ocean, maybe reading a book, maybe just watching, maybe even making a sarcastic comment.

She starts to pull at one of the petals but hesitates a moment, slipping back into thoughts that she'd thought she'd long forgotten. Nicknames that rolled off this tongue so naturally. She wonders if she can remember everyone; Baby, Belle of the Ball, Boar Expert, Freckles, Girl, Honey, Kiddo, Magellan, The Mighty Huntress, Pippi Longstocking, Puddin, Sassafras, Sheena, Shortcake, Sugarpop, Sweetheart, Thelma, Timmy, Woman.

She's sure there's more, sure there would have been more, but Freckles was and always will be her favourite.

And now she remembers Jack asking her, a while ago now, how she could possibly come here, just sit and do nothing. _Haven't you spent long enough getting bitten by sand fleas? _She didn't answer. Just a slight smile that soon turned into a frown as she wished that she wasn't here. She wished she was sat somewhere else in the sand, not further down the beach or in a more cleaner, golden area. She wished she was on _that_ beach.

The beach that brought back pleasant memories, even painful ones sometimes. But no matter what happened, you was content. She was content.

She remembers Jack asking her if she was sinking of the island, she wasn't, it wasn't even possible, but now, now she wishes that, that was all it took, to walk to the waters edge, take off her shoes and place her feet in the nights harsh water. Then sink. Sink back to were she was happy, at peace with herself.

And this is when she realises that Jack is right, he's always been right, they do need to leave here. They have to go back.

_---------------------_

He's sat on his aeroplane seat, glancing from his book a brief second, his eyes catch the water, how the waves move so gracefully, how they lap the shore and crash into the rocks with more force than the first time they rolled in. He looks down the beach and takes a second glance, he could have sworn he saw her slender body stood at the waters edge. Her untamed chocolate curls blowing widely with the calm wind that whips against his bare arms. But he blinks, and he curses himself for doing it, because now she's gone. Just like that. He tries his best to imagine that image again, but its blurry and faint and deep down it hurts him, knowing that he'll never see her walk down the beach to him, see her freckles dance in the sunlight.

The water attracts his attention again, the way it glistens intrigues him. Again he watches the tide go out, the beach getting wider and wider with every thirsty gulp of the ocean.

And he thinks. Jack is the safety and he is the sea. She will continue to swim out, get lost in him, slide under the waves and forget about the tide and eventually find her way back to Jack, crawling up the sandy beach that the waves leave behind. But he is just waiting for the day she can no longer see the shore and she finally drifts far enough under, that the ocean claims her as his own. Forever.

But that day has long past, as she always found her way back to the shore, sometimes longer than others, but she had always she found her way back. Back home. Back to him. For Jack is the hero, the almighty saviour, the guardian. He couldn't ever compete.

This is were she is now, safely in another place, looking out at another ocean, another star, another stretch of vast sky.

For he will never be able to watch her lips curl into a smile at the sound of 'Freckles' or ever again have her company as they are different people in different places. Maybe even different times.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder and now he realises that yes, it does. He does miss what he had, miss what is gone.

He's questioning why he stayed. Why did he stay? Why did he do what he always did; survive? Why not just let it run its course? There's so many 'whys' and 'what ifs'. There's so many people to pass the blame onto.

She's probably moved on, forgot about him. She left him behind, or did he leave her behind? Now there's so many questions.

-----------------------------------

_We have to go back. We have to go back. _That's all she's thinking. But where is 'back?'

The nights air is getting cooler and the wind more harsh, so she starts to unfold her legs, she pushes her body up with her hands and they become covered in tiny fragments of sand. She brushes it away, just like she's brushed everyone else away in her life.

She begins to walk up the stairs, _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. _She glances back down to the beach one more time, she feels like she's leaving him as she wonders down the grey, concrete pavement back to her apartment. She imagines finding him there. TV on, remote in one hand, beer in another. She's greeted with a lazy grin and a soft drawl. Her lips curl into a smile and she joins him, snuggles into his chest, she feels his lips kiss her forehead, his unshaven beard scratches her soft skin.

A car horn rings in her ears as she shakes her head, snapping herself out of the day-dream. Of course it wasn't real.

She unlocks the door to her apartment but doesn't open it. Hoping, wishing that he's there. Like she imagined.

He's not.

She's greeted with a red flashing light instead. Her answer phone. Its been like that for days. She hasn't been able to answer it. She assumes its Jack, she couldn't bear another slurred conversation about nothingness. So she just left it. She looks down and finds her mail and a newspaper. She picks them up, the title of the paper catches her eyes; The Fallen Hero. Her eyes scan the text. She cant believe what she's reading. She wont.

Jack. Bridge. Suicide.

She rushes over to the answer phone, playing the message she hears his voice, herself miming along to the message. Then beep. It ends.

She plays it again, this news as shocking as the first.

"_Kate….Its Jack, listen I know you probably don't want to talk, but please, Kate, listen I found it. I found the island….Call me when you get this. Kate, please" _

Then beep. It ends.

-----------------

Ok so what do you think? Good? Bad? Please review, it always helps :D Thanks for reading!


	2. Poisoned Paradise

Poisoned Paradise

Then beep. It ends.

She presses the button again. Listens to the message over and over until she can repeat it without even listening to it. She can her his voice in her head, his desperation, all he wanted was for her to listen. That's it.

Now she feels guilt. She practically pushed him off the bridge. She caused his death. No she didn't, he did it himself, it was all him. He didn't have to jump.

But she ignored his calls, his pleas. But she didn't kill him. She didn't.

Now what's going to happen? More interviews, questions, small smiles in the street as people recognise her. No, nobody remembers her, its been a while, now, everyone only remembers Jack. The hero. The one that saved them all.

But he didn't, and he knew this. Always had. He didn't save them all. Her heads spinning, fragments of memories forcing themselves to be noticed.

The key. She remembers the key. He gave it to her, just in case, or did she take it, just in case?

-----------------

She's in his apartment. Its smaller than hers. Well…the maps that cover the walls, the world globes, scribbles of writing on paper, maybe that makes it seem smaller. Its dark, the curtains are closed, the whole place has a musty smell, bottles of alcohol and pills everywhere. She flicks on a nearby light. Revealing even more of the exploded bomb he left behind.

She doesn't know what to do. Clean? Look for things? But what?

There's piles of books. _Pacific Islands, Locating Land, Why do plane crashes happen?, Poisoned Paradise, Free will vs. Fate. _

Little notes everywhere; _Tell Kate about book, Get new map, Tell Kate…._she can't read the rest, its all crumpled and the ink has smudged, so she casually throws it in the waste paper bin. Along with airline tickets, posters that has been blue tacked to the wall. She throws the cushions back onto the sofa, folds the blanket and neatly lays it on the arm of the chair. Then she remembers; _Kate, listen I found it. I found the island. _

How? He must have used the stuff that he has here, but what?

She unfolds the maps, looking for little jottings of notes, there are some, but nothing useful, she glances over at the books, _Locating Land, Pacific Islands. _She takes them.

The phone rings. She goes to answer it. No. She stops, her hand laid over the phone, she pulls away. People cant know she's been here. They cant find the island. They was told. All of them. They mustn't tell.

The apartments a lot cleaner, the phones still ringing as she unlocks the door and closes it behind her quietly.

---------------------

He's read every book there is, so now he makes up his own stories in his head. Some of them consist of Kate, well most of them do. No, all of them. He wonders what she's doing right this very minute, this very second? He can only imagine, only make up another story in his head. So he does.

_She's missing him, wishing she hadn't left and they'd have tried to 'play house' together. _Reality hits him. She wont be missing him, she has Jack. He's all she needs. Does she even remember him? Ok, now he's being stupid. Of course she does. When she sees random guys tied to trees she'll think of the kiss. When she sees a guy stumbling down the street holding his shoulder, she'll think of the bunk beds. When she sees divided groups of people, she'll think of when he was 'surviving'

He slumps further back into his aeroplane seat and wishes that he didn't survive, because he isn't anyway, he's just existing and that's worse than anything. He knows it.

----------------

She's been to the beach again and now she's on her way back, the couple in front of her make her smile, as she takes in there appearance, then realises that, that could have been them. Her and Sawyer.

Then women, tall but shorter than the man, her hair long, with wavy brunette curls. The man, slightly long haired, smiling as he whispers in her ear, she notices the daisy the women clutches in her hand and how she pulls away from him and starts to chant; "_Jamie loves me, Jamie loves me not, Jamie loves me, Jamie loves me not."_ The daisy petals fall behind her, some hitting Kate's jeans as they blow with the light wind. She can still hear the women's voice as a van goes hurtling by and she wishes she couldn't. She watches the man laugh and joke with her, pulling her close as still the women hasn't finished plucking the stupid petals. "_Kaitlin stop", _the man chuckles as she continues to pull the daisy petals away from the flower. As they cross the road it replays in her mind, the women's voice so full of happiness and contentment; _Jaime loves me, Jaime loves me not…Kaitlin stop. _That should have been them, it should have been _them!_

Her anger turns into sadness as she herself crosses the street once again noticing the couple, Jamie and Kaitlin, the names sickening her. Then she overhears the conversation, just when she thought she was out of ear shot, she couldn't cope with more chanting of loving me, loving me not.

"_I thought only six survived." _

"_Not what Shepard says, look-" _The man points to the back page of the book he's holding. Kate takes a few steps back, herself picking up a book, taking in the front cover, _Poisoned Paradise. _She picks up one of the newspaper articles on it, slowly reading the text;

_Book published by the late Doctor Jack Shepard, an Oceanic six survivor. In it he reveals that the island was 'magical' also towards the end he even claims that there was people left behind and it is in fact incorrect that there are only six survivors from the plane crash that happened late 2004. Overall the book; Poisoned Paradise, is an interesting read. _

No, this isn't happening. They weren't supposed to tell. He cant …they'll never….how could he do this? But that doesn't matter, now she realises, she made him look sane, she made him appear…she cleaned the place and made it look like this man was okay. He wasn't. If she'd have left the flat alone, just have come and gone, that's all she should have done. If the flat was untidy, if they saw the notes, the maps, globes they wouldn't have believed such ludicrous claims. But deep down she knows they're real. They're true. He was a respectable doctor, of course they believed him, but _if_ they did see the pills and mess behind the door, then would they have believed him? They wouldn't, would they?

_---------------_

_Researchers taking claims over suicide doc's book serious. Valid co-ordinates found, search starts Friday. _

---------------------

Ok this was supposed to have been a one-shot so be nice :D I would really love to hear what you thought, another chap? And if it was bad please tell me. Thanks for reading and all the wonderful reviews I got for the first chap. You made me very, extremely happy :P


	3. Object In The Sky

Object In The Sky

He's sat on a rock, not on the beach but in a more secluded part of the jungle, one he hopes not even Locke has found, because this is _there_ place, there utopia which holds fond memories.

If he closes his eyes tight enough and wishes, he can hear her laughs and screams, feel her brush by him, willing him to come into the water. He can never hold the memory long enough, he never gets past the pleas for him to come and join her, its like when you reach the end of a book that has a fantastic ending, but it always leaves you wanting more. This is how he feels, he wants to discover the whole new chapter, but there isn't one, they're never will be.

He looks up, the sky's getting darker, the clouds look like they're pairing up with one and another, they're all coming together, forming one large one. He feels the patter of rain against his arms, his surroundings have turned so quickly, from being bright and welcoming to dull and darkness. But this is really his life, he had everything he needed, he was someone, it was bright, then she went, she left with Jack, the name that he wont ever say, and now he's no one again, now its dark.

He hears footsteps behind him and the first thing that springs to mind is Kate. He turns and waits, wishing and praying for her slim body to appear out of the bushes, her hair messy as she wipes it from her face and gives a brief smile. The footsteps have stopped, he hears the shifting of feet, branches snapping, leaves rustling, maybe they went in another direction. For this is _there_ place.

The rains passing, a short storm that they have frequently on this poisoned paradise. He gets up, his legs feel heavy and he just wants to sit back down, but the rock isn't that comfy and inviting, much unlike his tent, were he can be alone and the darkness can surround him, like it already does on the inside.

He finds himself back at the beach, he cant even remember his surroundings that he walked past to get here, it feels strange to him. The beach is the same, the tents, _his_ tent, her tent. Sometimes he goes in and sits. He thinks he can smell her scent; he cant. He thinks he can feel her touch; he cant.

He wants to hear her voice; he cant.

He saunters slowly to his tent, sitting himself down on the aeroplane seat, his body slumped, feet kicked out into the sand. He turns and looks out to the ocean, but no matter how many times he looks he wont see _her, _but it's a habit now and it's a routine that he does have to look, because if he breaks it then his hope is lost and hope is a dangerous thing to lose. Just like Desmond and Locke believed that they _had _to push the button. He _has _to look.

His focus diverts to the sky, the glinting of something moving catches his attention. He gets up. Walks over to the edge of the water. His mouth gradually opens in shock, he can taste the ocean water on his lips, his eyes squint to see the object in the sky. It becomes clearer and clearer with every passing second.

He does a double take, this isn't true, this isn't real, is it?

--------------

She sees it on the news, she wish she hadn't, yet she wants it so bad. She's that lost little girl again, searching for her true feelings, she doesn't know what she wants. What he wants. The women's repeating herself now, _come on get it out_, that's all she thinks, she flips the channel, she cant watch it. Yes she can. Its back again, the women with the annoying voice that sounds like she's got a permanent sore throat. How she clears her voice _every time _she starts a new sentence.

She flips the channel again, she really cant watch it. Tell _them _exactly what's happened whilst they've been…away? Gone? Stranded? She watches as the programme gets interrupted, _oh well_ she thinks, it was only one of those stupid chat shows were people go on because they cant figure out there own problems themselves. They've never had real problems, not like on the island, were it's a matter of survive or die. Her concentration shifts now, her previous thoughts vanish as she looks at what's interrupted the programme.

The news. it's the news. A man this time, his voice is not annoying and he doesn't clear his throat after every sentence. Not even at all.

So she listens. Takes in his words, his voice is soft, like he actually cares about what's happened to these people. They show the flashes of pictures of the people that's been rescued, she smiles as familiar faces show up. Then they stop showing, just as quick as they started. What? No! She, she didn't see, she didn't see _his, _where was his photograph?

Changing the channel, she lands back on the women's just as she's clearing her throat, 'News Update' flashes across the screen. _"And here are photo's of the Oceanic 815 survivors" _

She watches more intently, again she smiles as she sees the people she once lived upon. As each picture flashes by, it seems to take longer, there smiling faces seems to take forever to blend into someone else's. She clears her throat again. More faces flash by. Still no James Ford. The women picks up more glossy white paper to read from. Still nothing. Seconds tick by, her heart racing, then suddenly it seemed to never occur to her, did something happen to him when she left? Did he get hurt? Did he….die? Or just simply did he not get rescued? The faces are going by to quick now, she's seen these people before. They're showing them again. Did she miss him? Her hands around the remote are getting sticky so she puts it on the coffee table in front of her, her hearts beating too fast, and she can feel tears burning in the back of her eyes.

Then his shows up. She's relieved. Shocked. Too scared to close her eyes just in case she misses any detail of him. But why didn't he show up on the other channel? Maybe they didn't have a picture? Yeah, that's it.

------------------------

_Late doctor Jack Shepherd was right, there are more Oceanic 815 survivors. But the big question on everyone's mind is why had the 'Oceanic six' lied? But to people who have bought Poisoned Paradise, Doctor Shepherds book is; is the island 'magical' as he claims? Well one of the rescuers from the new search says that it was just 'Mr Shepherd toying with our imaginations, stringing us along and letting us believe the exaggerated truth; it was all simply fantasy' _

-------------------------

She's at the airport, looking out of the huge, wall length glass windows. She can faintly see her reflection, her hair sweeping across her eyes, although its straighter than usual. Then she sees it, her lips curl into a smile, the object in the sky lands, people crowd around it; reporters. People, people she knows, knew are getting off. She steps back, suddenly having a change of heart.

She cant do this.

----------

Ok so the next chap will be the last. Hope you enjoyed this one though, thanks to all those people that have reviewed, so how was it?? Good? Bad? Please let me know, it helps me to improve :D Thnaks for reading!


	4. Its All Fantasy

Its All Fantasy

Now people do recognise her in the street. Silent glances and whispers to one another as she walks by people. A few even come up to her asking the obvious question; Why lie? How could they leave them behind?

But to Kate the big question was; Why hadn't he called? Got in contact? Knocked on her door at three in the morning just to antagonise her? Stood outside her apartment? Followed her about her daily life? Why?

----------------

He'd read about it in the paper, all the anger and hatred disappeared. Now he felt pity. Pity for the man that was so strong and level-headed. People looked up to him and he did this. Of all the things he'd been through and he did this. But who was he to judge? Since he got back all he'd done was drink. At first he thought he just missed the taste, the buzz, but it became something more and after reading what Jack had done to himself, how could he go see Kate? He wasn't worthy of her, just like Ben had said. Why hadn't she got in contact with him anyway? After all his moping, she never even missed him.

They've all been offered counselling, especially after what happened to Jack. He looks at the card he was given, rubbing his finger against the sharp edges, wondering if anyone actually goes. Well he certainly isn't going, he takes the card and throws it in the bin, grabbing his jacket he slips out the door and heads for the nearest bar.

The nights air is cold and harsh against his hands so he stuffs them in his jean pockets, shoulders hunched together, head down, eyes ahead, as he saunters down the vacant street.

His surroundings become more open and he can see the ocean, feel the waves crashing into the rocks, he stops and looks out. Remembering only days ago he was sat on a tropical island, he'd thought when he left he'd feel better, he'd have something, someone. But its only worse. He only goes to another bar every night and tries to find his life at the bottom of a glass. He never does. He never will.

He takes one last look at the beach, the sand, the ocean, the lone figure sitting near the waters edge, then heads into the bar.

------------------------

She's sat on the beach. Her body slumped into itself, her arms cradle her small waist as she shivers once more. She looks out across the water, the stars twinkling in the nights sky attract her attention, she remembers her mother telling her that when she saw the brightest star in the sky, she could make a wish. She wonders if she ever believed wishing on a star? She doesn't think she does, or did, it was the random plucking of petals that always fascinated her. How your fortune could change with a different daisy and how you had to make sure you started with the right words. It was always the hardest choice for her to make. Start with 'he loves me not' or 'he loves me'? She thought she'd figure it out as she got older. She hasn't.

She can hear the bars music, its louder than usual, although maybe before she was just too lost in her thoughts to hear it. _You could've come over to my side, you could've let me know, you could've tried to see the distance between us, but it seemed too far for you to go._ _Do you remember...? _

Phil Collins. Mix Tape. Sawyer.

She remembers; she remembers 'I never' and cologne, haircuts and Texas hold 'em, strawberries and fish biscuits.

but then…

She cant believe she thought he'd still remember her, care about her. She gets up from the sand, wiping her hands against her thighs she saunters up the steps, _one, two, three, four, _she looks back and she knows, this will be the very last time she ever comes here again, _five, six, seven, eight. _She slowly crosses the road, the bar across the street seems rowdier than usual, the flashing tacky neon light above the door attracts her attention; Daisy's. How ironic?

She walks in, the stairs leading down to the bar are steep and she grabs the hand rail to keep herself balanced. A guy smirks her way, _I am not drunk, _she scoffs to herself.

She takes her seat in a secluded part, a small TV showing the news is perched above her, she glances up and watches for a few seconds. She doesn't know why, it just seems better than having to think about her life right now, because when she does think about it; what does she have? All she ever had was him, and now he clearly doesn't want anything to do with her, he hasn't even called.

------------

He saw her come in, how she practically fell down the stairs made him smirk. He's glad she didn't see him. He watches her go over to the bar, she just sits and looks at the TV showing nothing but the news. Maybe she was watching for news on the rescue, on his rescue? Maybe she was watching for him? But if she was really that bothered she would have called or something. Wouldn't she?

No she didn't care about him, it was always Jack, maybe she was watching for news on him? On his death. He takes the last sip of his drink and rises from the secluded corner he's in. His minds telling him to go home, see her when your less….drunk. But his legs wont let him, _left, right, left, right, _he's stood in front of her, she hasn't turned. Not yet.

---------------

She feels the presence of someone walking over, her head jerks sideways; Sawyer? He smirks, slowly drawls a 'Hey Freckles' She just stares at him; dumbfounded. Its not a drawl, it's a slur. He's drunk. She doesn't know what to say, she's waited for this for so long.

"Long time no see, sweetcheeks" He once again drawls before signalling to the barman another drink. She cant tell whether he's mad or not. "So….how's Jack?" He knows what's happened, he read about it, yet he wants to hurt her, like she hurt him, leaving him on the frikkin island, leaving him for Jack, not coming to the airport. She stutters, her eyes filling with tears, it's a small, croaky whisper; "He's dead" She wonders if he knows, she wonders if he just wanted her to say it. So that's all she says, she waits for him to speak, its his move.

He seems to realise that it was a step to far, he shouldn't have said it. He shouldn't have made her say it. The tears in her eyes make him even more sure that there future wasn't meant off of the island, because he's a spiteful man, asking about a dead person that cared for them all; even him. It was wrong and if he was an apologising man, he would say sorry. But he's not. And he wont. "Why didn't you come…to the airport. I didn't see you s'all" His voice is quiet and sincere, much different from the man a few minutes ago. But that's him, he's used to playing different people.

"I came…to the airport…I just…I couldn't see you…"

"Why?"

"….I thought…I thought you'd be mad at me…y'know….for leaving" She looks deep into his eyes, but she doesn't see anything. Nothing. No emotion or….something for her to build on. His eyes are empty and she wonders if he's hiding these things from her.

He looks away. He cant have her eyes burning through him anymore, they want someone that he was, someone he cant be anymore. Because this is the real world and he cant be the person she saw on the island. Its just to complicated.

"Why won't you let me in?" She whispers, shaky breath, trembling fingers. What if she gets the answer she doesn't want to hear? But its too late to turn back, she's already spoken.

He looks her in the eye, and he himself speaks without thinking. "Because you'll eventually want to be let back out." She looks at him, mouth slightly open, she didn't want to hear that, she was right. And from his face she can tell he wasn't pretending, that was him, that was Sawyer. It wasn't James. He'll never be him no more. He cant. This evil and vindictive man has controlled him for too long and he cant turn back. Its too hard and he's too scared to show her him.

She pushes the bar stool from beneath her, taking small tentative steps towards the door. She holds on the rail and practically pulls herself up the stairs. She gets out of the smoky bar and the cool nights airs hits her, taking her back a bit. Then she does something she hasn't done in a long time. She runs.

--------------------

She's sat in her apartment, daisy petals cover the floor, tears stain her cheeks as her hand automatically pulls away another petal. She's plucked more daisy's today than she ever has done in her life. Well, she's tells herself that. She got 'he loves me' twenty three times and 'he loves me not' eight times. Yet deep down, she knows, she knew they'd never work in the real world. And deep down she knows, she'll never, ever, chant this chant again. Because its just like fairy rings and the man that collects your teeth, it doesn't exist; it's all fantasy.

--------------------------

Ok so that's it! This was the last chapter. I was very very unsure of this chap, so let me know what you thought. Thanks for all the people that have reviewed. I really appreciate it. Thanks for reading :D


End file.
